That Which Never Truly Leaves Us
by GreenEyesStaring
Summary: A routine call turns into a trek down Memory Lane for Munch when he discovers Kay Howard at the victim's side, while Olivia has a slight problem with Alex's newest proposal. SVU with H:LOTS guest-star; K/OC and, as always, A/O.


Hello, all! So for the past few months I've been toying with the idea of an _SVU/Homicide: Life on the Street_ crossover starring our favorite detective and attorney, as well as prominently featuring _H:LOTS_' Kay Howard ('cause she's kick-ass and her character had awesome gay potential like that). Sometime last month, I cranked out about a chapter and a half worth of fic, and here it is. The first bit, I mean. I'm not sure how long this fic is going to be, really, so I'll just have to work and see; I _do_ know, however, that updates will be sporadic and probably infrequent due to life and the fact that in order to write fic, I must put off doing something important, which I suddenly find myself less and less likely to do.

Anyway, without further ado:

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own any of these characters, I simply borrow them and put them into situations that make me smile. So sue me...Actually, no, I'm kidding - please don't sue. I'm a broke-ass college student.

_**That Which Never Truly Leaves Us**_

**by**

**GreenEyesStaring**_**  
**_

**Chapter 1 - **

"Christ, can these fucktards _not _hear our siren!?" Detective Olivia Benson's angry cry ripped through the car louder than their siren was ripping through the crowded New York City street. "Hey, dipshit, take out those damn headphones and pay attention to the siren! Get the hell out of the street!" This was her third outburst in the seven minutes since the pair had ridden out of the station toward St. Paul's hospital, where their newest victim was being rushed from a crime scene. And while Olivia was known for upholding her reputation as an energetic member of the NYPD, her current behavior was certainly going above and beyond the call of duty.

"Olivia, get your upper body back inside the car this instant," instructed John Munch from behind the wheel of their Ford Taurus. He didn't let his mind linger on just how old that command had made him sound.

"It's the only way these morons can hear me," Olivia replied, only half-heeding Munch's instructions, allowing her arms and head to dangle out the window. "Look at that guy – hey, asshole in the green vest, _move_!" She turned toward Munch, "Why don't they get a fucking clue? We're in a rush!"

"It's the NYU campus' main street, Olivia," soothed Munch. He expertly maneuvered the car around a group of lingering college students too preoccupied with their cell phones to care about the police car trying to make it through the traffic. "They're getting out of our way as best as self-absorbed, New York college kids can."

"Don't make excuses for them, John," Olivia snapped. "Rule number one about sirens: you hear one, you haul ass outta the way and pull the hell over. Move, move!"

"They're pedestrians," Munch reasoned. "That's as fast as they go."

"Fat lot you know about going fast," Olivia said, tearing her eyes away from the mess of cars and students trying to clear the cluttered street so that the wailing police car could pass to glare at Munch from her seat. "If you were driving any slower, we'd be moving backwards."

Munch felt his face fold into a heavy frown. That was just unfair. Hadn't he been the first one out the precinct doors, or the first one to reach the car? Hadn't he _just _been soaring down the street, not three minutes ago, at a speed even a siren-blaring cop could get in trouble for? The only reason Munch had slowed his pace was because they had reached the always-polluted streets around NYU; and even then, Munch had taken his foot off the gas pedal rather reluctantly. He didn't reply to Olivia's preposterous accusation. Just as well, she wouldn't have heard him; Olivia had already whirled back around and was hurling suggestions at passers-by about where they could go if they didn't get out of the way _now_.

Two minutes later, when Munch's growing concern that Olivia would draw her gun to give people a damn good incentive to move out of the way was not so much a far-fetched thought than an imminent reality, the road finished clearing. He jumped on the gas pedal and the car gave a great lurch forward, effectively cutting off one of Olivia's juiciest strings of curse words to date, and barreling unopposed down the street.

"Whoa…a little warning would be nice next time," Olivia advised as she rolled up her window now that there were no meandering assholes to urge out of the way. "I could have lost my hand if we'd been any closer to that mail truck."

"Maybe you shouldn't have been using your hand to so vividly describe what that jogger could go do because he took five seconds and not three to cross the street," Munch retorted, a hint of irritation in his voice. He turned a sharp corner and sped on in direction of the hospital.  
"Asswipe deserved it," Olivia snorted. There was the sound of wind rushing past them as Munch pushed the small Ford to its velocity limit, and jolted both of its passengers when they went flying over a pothole. "Cool it a bit! Jesus Christ, you're driving like a bat outta hell!"

"There is just no winning with you, is there?" Munch asked through almost-gritted teeth as his fingers curled tightly, therapeutically, around the steering wheel. "And, really, Olivia, we've known each other long enough to drop the pleasantries: you can call me John."

Olivia chuckled and settled into her seat, for the moment content, but still fuming. Fuming, Munch recalled, like she had been since yesterday.

Being Olivia's partner for the week, after Elliot had fallen ass over teakettle chasing a suspect down a slick alley and successfully sustained a concussion, Munch had been privy to Olivia's sudden and very dramatic change of mood last evening when she had returned from a quick dinner break. She had gone from being her usual, amicable self to being irritable and rude all within the span of an hour and a half. And while Munch had his suspicions as to what the problem could be (he had, after all, noticed the exaggeratedly clipped business tones Olivia had shared with one Alex Cabot in the squad room late last night), he'd figured Olivia would get herself in check throughout the course of the day. That had yet to happen. It was five seventeen in the afternoon, and if her most recent spectacle on the NYU campus was anything to go by, Olivia's mood had only gotten worse.

It wasn't as if Munch had avoided the very obvious fact that there was an issue and allowed Olivia to stew in the Mood from Hell all day, either. He had been dropping very casual hints inviting Olivia to vent her frustrations since she'd fallen into a surly state last evening; hints that the female detective had failed spectacularly to pick up on not once, not twice, but three times already. Daring another attempt to establish deeper communication with Olivia, Munch decided to take a more direct approach to getting to the root of Olivia's anger. After cutting off two lanes of traffic and taking the squad car screaming past a red light, Munch steadied the wheel, keeping speed constant, and opened his mouth,

"Look, I know you're partners with Elliot 'Mr. Blunt Questions All Day Every Day' Stabler," he began. "And since it's clear that prolonged exposure to the man has dulled your senses on the finer points of subtle inquiries, I'm going to ask this question in a way you understand: what the hell is up your ass today?"

Olivia jerked her head in Munch's direction, finding herself gaping stupidly in surprise at the side of his head. She knew her foul mood had seeped into every aspect of her day, but for Munch to take Elliot's approach to personal questions and so aggressively ask what was bothering her meant that Olivia had managed to considerably irritate the usually patient sergeant. It was not that Munch didn't care if anyone was having a bad day – he was just far better at waiting for his colleges to ride out their bad moods than most anyone else. If she had managed to piss him off to the point where he felt compelled to ask what was bothering her, then perhaps it was time Olivia took a second to relax. The beginnings of a small smile formed at the right corner of Olivia's mouth, but she suppressed the expression, and tried to defend herself, "What do you mean –"

"Olivia, I've been a detective longer that you've been outta uniform," Munch said, taking his eyes off the street zooming past them only for a moment to smile at his companion. "Now, my case closure rate may not be the best in the bullpen, but I think my deductive reasoning works enough to tell me when one of my friends is having a shitty two days."

"Well, how clever of you," Olivia mumbled. She turned in her seat, directing her attention at the speeding buildings outside the window. She didn't face him, but after a moment's silence simply said, "Alex and I got into a bad fight yesterday."

_Well, _I _could have told you that_. Munch thought, but kept the comment to himself. He instead made another dramatic turn, and suddenly the hospital came into view. He leaned heavily on the pedal, watching the great white building begin to come closer.

"She asked me to move in with her," Olivia further divulged. Before Munch could offer any sort of congratulatory words, she continued, "I panicked, and said that she was taking things too fast – and I said some things about our relationship that I've been regretting all night."

"And what are you going to do about that?"

"Apologize, obviously," Olivia said. "I just don't know where to start. I don't even know why I said no. And after I did, it seemed everything I said just made things worse."

"Are you alright?"

Olivia didn't so much reply as utter something between a groan and a whine. Munch took this to mean that she was not too sure about her current emotional state, and brought the car to a screeching halt in the hospital parking lot. They threw open the car doors, and before Olivia could get out, she felt Munch's hand on her arm. She turned toward him, and met his sympathetic gaze. "Hey, moving in together's big step; you had a right to feel overwhelmed. But if I know Alex, then she didn't ask you live with her on a whim. She gave her question some thought, and opened herself up to the possibility of rejection. It's my opinion she's angry at your piss-poor decision-making tactics more than anything else."

"After all I said if that's the one thing Alex is upset about, then she'll be a saint," Olivia mused sullenly. "A bona fide saint." They filed out of the car and rushed toward the hospital's emergency entrance, barging onto the reception desk, and flashing their credentials. The stunned receptionist could only look up at them expectantly. "Detective Olivia Benson, Special Victims Unit, this is Detective Munch. We're looking for a patient, Gina Armstrong."

"She's being worked on by doctors at the moment," the receptionist replied, then pointed behind the pair. "But that's the officer that arrived with the ambulance." Olivia and Munch looked up to see a uniform standing some feet from the desk.

Thanking the receptionist, they walked over to the uniform, who began reporting immediately, "She's in bad shape, Detectives, unconscious. The doctors just took her into a trauma room."

"What exactly do we have?" Olivia asked.

"Gina Armstrong: middle-aged Caucasian female beaten on the head and left to die in her apartment," the uniform said, whipping out a notebook. "She was found on the kitchen floor; it appears the perpetrator broke into the home with a crowbar, possibly what he could have used to beat her. We're not sure what exactly sparked the attack, or what the perp's original intentions were."

"Who called it in?" Munch asked.

"The victim's domestic partner, Ms, uh…" the uniform trailed off as he flipped through his notes. "Ms. Kay Howard."

The name struck Munch unexpectedly, like being hit with a ball he'd seen fly into left field, but forgotten all about until the offensive sphere returned to wallop him in the head. Kay Howard. How long had it been since he'd last heard that name? Years, ages. Kay Howard. In a different job, a different state, a different life. And to have the name come up as the victim's family in a rape investigation…a heavy feeling settled into Munch's stomach, and he began to worry. He threw a quick glance left and right, behind him, and then urgently directed his attention once more toward the uniform. "Did she come in with the victim?"

"Yeah, she's right back there," said the uniform, pointing to the back of the waiting area where a woman was turned around toward a vending machine. "She was just coming home from the store when she walked in to find Ms. Armstrong - " Munch turned on his heel, making an effective beeline for the woman, leaving the poor uniform in the middle of his sentence. " - bleeding on the floor."

"Thanks, we'll take it from here," Olivia said, her eyes trailing Munch's hasty scamper down the corridor with curiosity. "Just tell the doctors to come find us when Ms. Armstrong is stabilized, yeah?" The uniform nodded dutifully and shuffled away.

* * *

**And that about wraps it up for good ol' Chapter 1. Thanks for reading, people! **

**Now, please, go review and tell me what you think. **

**Until the next update, dudes, **

**-Greens  
**


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